


The Artist

by Allavengedromance



Series: Mixed Media Artists [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Brief Germany (Hetalia), Brief References to Austria/Hungary, Human Names Used, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of sexual and romantic tension, M/M, Offscreen Violence, References to FrUK, Some quality friendship content, art students
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29719644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allavengedromance/pseuds/Allavengedromance
Summary: Gilbert, a photo student with major art block, finds inspiration from a mysterious student he has an instant connection with.Matthew, an art student working to fix his relationship problems, finds himself distracted by an interest with a photo student he keeps running into.Part one of a two-part series. Prologue is Matt's POV with the rest Gilbert's.
Relationships: America/Canada (Hetalia), Canada/Prussia (Hetalia)
Series: Mixed Media Artists [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184153
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue: Matthew as the Artist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of a little project of mine to take the starts of fics I wrote a long time ago while working on the BWTB and finish them now. I was going to wait until I finished to started to post, but decided I could use the push of chapters being up to work faster. Also, I'm super excited about some of these chapters.
> 
> I'm super into any constructive criticism. Let me know if there are any tags or content warnings you think you'll want.

Matthew sat in a large art studio staring out the window. He could hear one of his professors talking about something, but couldn’t find it in himself to pay attention to the words being said. He continued to stare out thankful for his window seat.

The world seemed so beautiful outside. His college campus wasn’t the best, but he could see the beauty in it. If he imagined all the buildings and students walking were gone, it would really be a breathtaking sight — just a large open valley of trees and tall grasses. Wind blew through the campus and disturbed the trees’ dormant branches making them wave in the wind.

Matthew closed his eyes and could practically feel the cool wind dancing across his skin. He could feel the grass under his feet and smell the fresh air. He could feel the freedom of being outside in the open, freedom he could only dream of now. He imagined himself out in that plain and escaped there. 

He had learned quickly how to escape into the depths of his mind. It was something he needed when things got bad. If he made a mistake, he needed to escape the real world for a moment. If anything went wrong, he needed to escape to avoid the anger-filled eyes glaring at him. If he could escape, he wouldn’t be forced to wonder where the love had gone, and why he always stayed.

Suddenly his green, free world was filled with those eyes. They glared at him scrutinizing his every existence. They were full of hatred, the swirls of anger in the blue orbs contrasting against the calm, clear sky. 

His eyes jolted open when the loud sounds of chairs scraping the floors and the chatter of voices reached his ears. He sat up a little bit stretching and looked about the room at the students leaving. He supposed he should start leaving as well. He couldn’t believe he zoned out for that long.

He ran a hand through his blond hair still stretching in his seat before getting up to pack his things. He started shoving books into his backpack quickly, having trouble getting the last few to fit.

“Need some help there?” 

Matthew paused his movements at the sound of the energetic voice and felt his body stiffen. He knew he had no reason to be afraid – he and Mathias were friends – but he couldn’t help it. Could conversing with him be taken the wrong way? 

Matthew tried to clear his thoughts. They were just friends, everybody knew that. Besides, Mathias had a thing for Nikoli. _Anyone_ who knew him could see that.

The Dane who had offered his help looked at his friend waiting for an answer, his easy-going stance looking soberer. He reached out and put a hand on Matthew’s shoulder feeling him twitch under the simple touch. Matthew’s head looked up quickly when the contact was made.

Something about Matthew’s face… Something in his eyes. What was it? Mathias wasn’t too sure. He had known Matthew since they were younger, but lately, they haven’t seen much of each other – Matthew always had something to do. There was something in the other’s eyes that made him pause. He considered the smaller blond like a brother, and something just wasn’t right. He could feel it.

“Matthew… are you okay?” 

Matthew forcibly relaxed his stance and responded with a small smile, “Of course.”

His lie was given away by body language. His stance was still stiff, and his eyes flickered quickly looking for an excuse to leave sooner. 

His search came to an end when the door opened loudly with a familiar face in the doorway. Blue eyes stared straight at Matthew upon entering then honed on the man with a hand currently on Matthew’s shoulder.

“Mattie! I’ve been waiting for you!” the new man’s voice boomed happily. Matthias stood up taking his hand off the other’s shoulder. Matthew tensed at the new voice but quickly found the ability to respond, “H-hey Al. I was just packing up my stuff.”

Matthew tilted his head up to meet the strong gaze of Alfred before giving him a shy smile. Alfred seemed to take in everything about Matthew’s appearance, eyes occasionally flickering to Mathias, before smiling.

“Here, let me help you.” He quickly strode across the room and placed a hand on Matthew’s shoulder where Matthias’ was only moments before. He shot a glare at Matthias.

“Because that’s what boyfriends do,” Alfred stated. Matthew quickly packed up the rest of his belongings after being released from Alfred’s strong grip. When Matthew stood up straight again, Alfred’s arm found a place around his shoulders quickly steering him towards the exit.

Matthew turned to look over his shoulder giving an apologizing look to Matthias before disappearing out the door.

Matthias watched in silence. Something seemed very off.

* * *

“Babe, you feel really stiff,” Alfred said while massaging his boyfriend’s shoulders. Matthew twitched under Alfred’s hands and tried to focus on his art history textbook. Alfred continued his soft, comforting touch in an attempt to ease the tension that had been in Matthew’s shoulders since his last class earlier that day. Alfred dragged his hands from Matthew’s shoulders down his arms in an attempt at a makeshift hug from the strange standing angle behind the couch in their Living Room. The movement caused Matthew to wince in pain as Alfred’s hand touched a particularly tender part of his arm.

Alfred noticed the reaction and questioned, “Feel okay, baby?”

Matthew stuttered, “It’s just sore… from earlier.”

Alfred sighed and walked to sit next to Matthew on the couch. He leaned close so that their knees were touching.

He spoke softly. “Mattie. You know I don’t like other guys flirting with you,” Matthew had to stop himself from claiming no one was flirting with him, “I’ve had people cheat on me, and I know you went through a promiscuous phase.”

Matthew bit his lip. He wanted to explain himself, explain that Mathias was an old friend and loved someone else, but he didn’t want to upset Alfred again. Some things weren’t worth it.

Alfred noticed Matthew struggling and continued, “I can’t handle when other guys hang all over you. It hurts a lot. I just love you so much.”

Matthew's face formed a half-smile – it was small and did not light up his eyes, but it was there. He liked knowing that Alfred still loved him, that Alfred cared. It was one reason he chose to stay. The problem was that his body still ached from when he and Alfred got home from class. He could still feel Alfred’s tight grip on his arm and the sting of the slap across his face that happened the moment Alfred closed the door to the apartment.

“I didn’t know what to do, Al.”

“It’s okay. You’ll learn.”

Alfred leaned in and kissed his boyfriend. Matthew returned the kiss, though hesitatingly. Alfred was gentle in his prodding, and deepened the kiss, placing a hand on the back of Matthew’s head to guide him. After a few moments, Alfred let Matthew go and the two caught their breaths. 

Alfred suggested, “Why don’t you go rinse off, while I cook? You’re not getting much studying done anyways.”

“Yeah, okay.” Matthew nodded as he closed his textbook.

After grabbing some clothes to change into, he walked into the bathroom and closed the door. He considered locking it for privacy but felt that Alfred would become angry if he tried to get in. Alfred usually was kind after he let his anger get control over him, but Matthew did not want to risk being at fault more than once in a day.

He slowly stripped, careful to avoid any tender areas. Once nude, he observed his figure in the mirror to assess the damages from before. He hadn’t got a good chance by himself to really look at what Alfred had done. His arm had a large darkening bruise on it. From experience, he knew that the greenish color would take on a purple hue by the morning. It would be another hoodie day tomorrow. His shoulder on the same side hurt from where Alfred had yanked him. It didn’t show any signs of injury, so he hoped the ache would be gone by the morning. There were various other darkened marks throughout his skin. A few areas showed sores and cuts from where his skin had ripped from impact or hitting objects. He experienced much worse in the past, and at least his face was fine.

Standing alone nude, he peered into his own mirrored eyes unsure of exactly what he was looking for inside himself, but not liking whatever he was seeing. He forced an awkward smile, contorting his face. His eyes remained the same.

A slow breath escaped him, and he looked away, his head turned towards the door. The lock was still in its unlocked, horizontal position. He slowly walked towards it and pressed an ear to the door. Muffled sounds from the TV filtered through the door, as well as Alfred moving around the kitchen grabbing various pans. Matthew’s fingers ran over the lock slowly, but he stood up deciding against it.

This wouldn’t take long if he moved fast.

He took the few steps required to cross the small bathroom and kneeled on the floor next to the toilet. Reaching around behind it, he ran his hand over the molding at the bottom of the wall, hooking his nail between the molding and the wall until it caught towards the corner. Shifting, he pulled out a piece of the wood, revealing a tiny alcove in the wall. 

Ignoring the two thumb drives, he could mess with those when he was actually alone, he forced his fingers in to pull out an old digital camera. It didn’t have much practical use since phone cameras have long surpassed its quality and ability, but it was perfect for what Matthew needed. Not to mention, the small size was perfect to hide, and it wasn’t hooked up to any cloud or database Alfred could get ahold of.

Standing, Matthew stood in front of the mirror again and began deliberate, practiced movements. He turned on the camera, noting the battery, and began to take pictures of himself — some using the mirror for help, and some of the various parts of his body. He focused on each bruise, cut, and discoloration. After being satisfied he got a detailed shot of each, he took a few overall mirror selfies to showcase the whole damage that could be seen from his hips up. 

A noise from the living room caused him to freeze. He bolted to the door, holding his breath to listen. The TV murmuring grew and Alfred’s laughter traveled from the living room to Matthew’s straining ears. He was fine.

Turning off the camera, he moved back to the floor to place it back in its hiding spot. He wouldn’t have time now to do any more documentation, but the pictures are most important and could be moved to one of the drives another time.

With delicate fingers, he replaced the wooden molding and pressed hard on it. Slowly, and ran his fingers along the molding to test if the loose piece was noticeable or would move. Satisfied everything was as it should be, he began his shower.

Matthew hummed as the warm water washed his aches away soothing him. Wet hair cascaded against the back of his neck as the water soaked it quickly. Things were going to be okay. They were not okay now, but they would be. He went through his mental reminders to himself. Most importantly, do not get lost in Alfred’s attempts to soothe him. A little bit of good attention would not make up for this. Alfred was in the wrong, not him. He’d re-remind himself while transferring the pictures later.

He focused on his breathing. Cataloging what comes next and focusing on the road right in front of him. He’d meet with a friend tomorrow, get a better idea of his options, and work from there. The road ahead would be rocky — he’d have to keep himself on track and stick with it, no more falling back into things despite the negative swirling thoughts that always let him.

He was going to fix his life himself, albeit with some help, but he was going to do it. He just needed to remain focused and properly handle this delicate balance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to contact me on tumblr at [allavengedromance](https://allavengedromance.tumblr.com/) or twitter [@bethfrombackrow](https://twitter.com/bethfrombackrow)  
> I share multifandom stuff or personal things, but am trying to slowly post more about in-progress fic stuff.


	2. Gilbert as the Photographer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gilbert confronts art block

_ Click. _

Beat.

_ Click. _

“Fuck,” Gilbert mumbled looking at the screen of his digital camera. Only two weeks into the semester and he already hit a speedbump. This had to be a new record. Well, a new record when it came to a class he actually cared about it, which sometimes felt few and far between. The problem with small liberal arts schools is the number of bullshit classes you have to take outside of your major, meaning Gilbert is always stuck in classes he couldn’t give two shits about when he would rather be behind a camera.

Still looking at the camera and beginning to look through the menu to see if changing any settings could give him some inspiration and a better quality image, he walked through the small campus. If anyone asked, he would say he was always awesome at photography, but the truth was he was in college for a reason. His ability to get stuck in slumps was one of them. Luckily, his freshman year he got away with turning in fake artsy shit and doing well, but, now, he needed to find some sort of voice and style — something he feels the need to showcase. The projects this semester are more open-ended allowing for creativity that, today, Gilbert felt was beyond him. Luckily, his professor let him out of the studio to try to get some better inspiration. Artistic research in an academic way never really helped him.

Turning towards a tree, he snapped a quick shot of a bird perched on a lower branch. Changing the aperture, he tried again, this time nodding at the result. He always did like birds — a little hard to set up photoshoots with inside for what he’d need later in the semester, but maybe they could be a start.

Sighing he moved on, taking off a layer of red-checkered flannel and tying it around his waist, showing his black t-shirt fully. He should have considered that the outside was actually warm at this time of day, unlike the art building. Why the hell are the classrooms always freezing anyways?

Gilbert pulled out his phone to check the time, he technically had an hour left of “class,” but was considering asking his friends if they wanted to meet up earlier, maybe pre-game before the bar or something. He sent a message letting them know that class sucked and campus sucked and they should all be awesome sooner than originally planned.

He tucked his phone into his back pocket and decided to walk to one side of campus and back. If he didn’t think of anything, he would grab his stuff from the studio and head home. That was enough time to think of an excuse for why he had to leave class with all his things.

A breeze blew through campus, cool but comfortable when paired with the heat of the sun, a clear sign they would be getting the first hints of fall early. He reached his favorite part of campus which was mostly open grass areas and trees. A small stream broke the area into two sections signaling you are starting to leave the main campus and head towards lesser buildings and student housing. Although the stream was for rain drainage, it had a nice quality to it Gilbert always liked. Sometimes, it could actually feel like getting away from everything to something more natural. Plus, he had good memories there like the time last summer he and Antonio sat in the stream completely trashed trying to get Francis to splash around with them in the middle of the night. Good times.

Gilbert readied his camera, contemplating if he could get a decent shot of one of the ornamented walking bridges, way too large and hefty for its need, that allowed groups of students to cross over the stream in large herds while using the most popular sidewalks.

Unnecessary, but nice. Maybe he could do something with that.

Since class was technically still in session, there weren’t too many people milling about, just some individuals and pairs, but not the large masses that would fill the sidewalks in about forty-five minutes.

As much as Gilbert liked crowds and people, sometimes it was nice to get away and enjoy when campus could be quiet.

Gilbert fiddled with his camera as he neared the bridge, mentally adjusting for any change in lighting shade from nearby trees could cause. The path angled downward signaling his destination. He looked up.

At first, he was put off by the fact that someone was lingering in the center of the bridge but then was caught by the image they created. Lowering his camera and standing still, Gilbert stared at the boy. 

The stranger was leaning against the edge on his forearms, back to Gilbert. His hair was blond and long, long enough that the periodic breeze made it move exaggeratedly around his head. The sun was at the perfect angle to reflect off of his moving hair. With the way the trees cast shadows everywhere but the center of the bridge, it was as if this stranger had a glowing halo around their entire body.

Gilbert was breathless.

He wondered what the stranger was looking at over the edge. Sometimes there were minnows and turtles in the water that could be entertaining enough on a slow day. Gilbert walked closer, now approaching the bridge head-on. He got a quick glimpse of the stranger's face. His eyes stared off into the distance, his brows were knitted slightly giving him a very serious look highlighted by the way his thumbs fiddled together over and under over and under.

The posture, the expression, the lighting: it was a picture-perfect moment. Intense. He could stare at this image forever in the way people could stare at the Mona Lisa for ages questioning what gave her the expression she held.

Gilbert lifted his camera and walked closer. Looking through the viewfinder, he shuffled around at an angle trying to make the perfect composition. He felt energized, his fingers twitched around his camera, his heart beat fast taking in the image.

The clack of the shutter broke through the peaceful air.

Through the camera, Gilbert got a perfect view of the stranger jumping in surprise and turning around quickly.

“What the fuck?”

Gilbert’s eyebrows lifted at the curse. Maybe he was subconsciously projecting an angelic personality or something because, for some reason, that was not the reaction he was expecting.

The boy waved an arm to get Gilbert’s attention. “Dude.”

“I was taking a picture,” Gilbert said, shaking his camera slightly in acknowledgment.

The boy rolled his eyes. “No shit. But why were you taking a picture of  _ me _ without me knowing?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be as good,” Gilbert claimed nonchalantly.

“Stalker.” The boy nodded to himself. “You are a creep or a stalker, a creepy stalker.” He shouldered a bag and went to walk past Gilbert.

“Wait,” Gilbert reached out to grab the boy’s arm but flinched back at the icy glare directed at him. He raised his arms in surrender. “I would have told you after! I swear! Just the whole scene was great, and I wanted to grab it before it was gone. I’m a photographer — a photo student, so it’s even like for class, nothing nefarious.”

The boy’s sharp eyes and tense shoulders deflated. “Photo majors are such creeps.” 

At the put-off look on Gilbert’s face, the boy smirked. Once again he turned to leave. Gilbert got a hold of himself and scrambled to follow.

“You know, you’re really photogenic.”

The boy slowed realizing he wouldn’t lose Gilbert so easily. “Thanks.”

“We should hang out sometime.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Cool, but also I’m thinking more artistically.”

“That pick-up line ever work for you before?”

“Not a line.”

“And I’m not lying about the boyfriend thing. He’ll kick your ass.”

Gilbert growled in frustration. “Look, this picture is great, and it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. It would be awesome if I could take more. That’s it.”

The boy paused to look at Gilbert as if sizing him up but then continued walking quickly as if a fast walk could actually make Gilbert stay behind.

“Okay, I get that I deserve this for being a little creepy at first, but let me explain myself.”

“Fine.” The boy stopped walking and turned towards Gilbert with a hand on his hip.

Gilbert explained, “I’ve been having a lot of trouble making stuff recently. I’m technically in class right now, but the professor let me out to try to find some sort of inspiration. And tada!” Gilbert gestured flamboyantly to the boy in front of him. “There you were just standing in this specific way with this look on your face, and the lighting was just…” He noticed that the boy looked unamused by the whole story.

“Look, you’ve been very inspiring, and I just want you to model a short series for class. That’s it if you want. I can even pay you. I’ve just been having trouble, and you’re very inspiring. Even this conversation is.”

“So I’m your muse?”

“Uh, I guess you could kind of put it that way but —” The boy cut Gilbert off.

“The idea of a muse is ridiculous.”

“It’s really not. A ton of famous artists have had muses that inspired them to make great work — Andy Warhol, Dali, Picasso.” 

The boy huffed. “The historical concept of a muse is inherently sexist and usually abusive.”

Gilbert blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Picasso was a raging sexist who drove women to suicide. He was a huge ass, and people let it slide because he made shit like  _ Guernica _ .”

Gilbert sputtered. “You’re joking?” It was less a question and more a hopeful statement.

“No, I study art history. Honestly, look it up. The whole concept is fucked; therefore, I won’t be your muse.”

Gilbert ran a hand over his face. He did not expect to have to fight for something like this, but he wouldn’t lie to say he wasn’t drawn to the debate. While trying to contain his frustrations, the boy started walking again, obviously not caring to hear Gilbert out.

“Hey!” Gilbert called out. The boy stopped and turned around with a start.

“You do know I have somewhere I have to be, right?”

“We should be friends. You could teach me a thing or two about art history and how not to be an ass.”

The boy bit back a smile. Gilbert noticed the expression and mentally celebrated. He knew a little self-deprecation could go a long way. He never liked to play that card, but it worked.

“I’m really busy.”

“Well, at least tell me your name.” All he needed was a name. Then, maybe, he could learn more about him or continue the conversation later.

The boy looked like he was about to speak up, but a short vibration distracted him. His face fell when he glanced at his phone.

Gilbert prodded, “What’s your name?”

The boy looked back sadly. “Taken. Taken and very busy.” With that, he answered his phone and took off in a trot in the other direction.

Gilbert stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched the retreating form. Once the boy disappeared between some buildings, he turned towards the nearest tree and kicked it three times, grunting in frustration each time.

Once he calmed down, he leaned against the tree and went to look at the picture on his camera.

Best damn picture he ever took.

With a sigh, he stood back up and began walking back to the classroom. Normally, he was pretty good with people. Yes, sometimes there were prudes who didn’t get his awesomeness, but that didn’t happen too often. He chose a major where his personality was really able to shine, and he could be appreciated as is. 

One thing he was not used to, was denial. Well, not quite denial, he’s struck out more times than he could count when out with friends, but he had just been served. Not just served, but totally obliterated on a topic he prided himself about knowing. Knowing about creative stuff was his thing, and some strange boy beat him at it. 

Needless to say, that only made Gilbert more attracted to the stranger.  _ Fuck. _ And he didn’t even get the guy’s name. All he knows is that he is very attractive, very smart, knows a lot about art, and is snarky as hell. Plus, he supposedly had a boyfriend, but that could have been him trying to scare Gilbert off. It’s happened before.

Once he made it back to studio, he waved in acknowledgment at the professor and flopped down at an unused computer. On autopilot, he plugged in his camera and got everything set up to review the photos and maybe make some quick edits.

As much as he wanted to just linger on the last photo, he forced himself to look through all the other shots he took if not to do something with them, then at least to organize them. Last semester, he had a professor that was a stickler for organization, and the file management kind of rubbed off on him. 

The guy was beautiful. He wished they could have talked longer, even if it was just to school him in facts he probably should already know as part of the visual studies department. The brain on that guy was hot. Gilbert just had this feeling that if he got the chance to know him better, he’d only find himself more attracted to him.

Gilbert paused on the bridge picture while going through and adding his naming convention to all the files. Giving in to temptation, he double-clicked to open the file. It was even better blown up. He tilted his head in thought as he zoomed in to focus on the boy’s face. There was something very interesting going on there, and it bugged the hell out of Gilbert that he had no idea what was eating away at the guy.

With a click, he closed the image and went back to his other pictures, flicking through them quickly. Despite trying to focus, some of the work was mindless, and his mind wouldn’t stop wandering back to that one person. He paused on his shot of the bird — it actually was pretty nice. He had a second shot of the bird beginning to fly off. For some reason, it reminded him of the bridge boy. His own little Birdie.

A tap on the shoulder shook him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

A classmate whose name he had yet to learn to a point of remembering pointed to the desk. “Your phone is ringing.”

“Oh, thanks.” Gilbert sat up doing a quick survey of the room. Class must have ended because there were only a few students left lingering on different computers. 

A picture of a spiky-haired blond captioned Mathias was illuminating his screen.

“Hey, what’s up?” Gilbert greeted through the phone.

“Dude! Where are you?” The voice was enthusiastic and loud, speaking over a commotion in the background.

Gilbert began gathering his things while also trying to keep the phone to his ear. “I’m still in the lab.”

“Not cool. You text us about meeting up early and then ditch.” Another voice could be heard muffled in the background. “And Arthur says something about keeping the dignity of drinking buddies or whatever.”

“I’ll be there soon. I just got distracted.”

“Let’s meet halfway. There’s like trivia or something about to happen here, and you know how Art gets around the frat crowds when he drinks.”

“If you guys are done for the day, we can go somewhere further from campus.” Gilbert shouldered his bag and began walking out of the building.

Thankfully the campus was small enough that the walk only took about five minutes, but Gilbert’s two friends were already waiting on a bench at their meeting spot.

At the sight of Gilbert, the smaller of his two friends stormed up to him and smacked the back of his head.

“What the fuck, Arthur?” Gilbert glared at him, rubbing his head. The taller blond began laughing.

“You don’t text for an early meeting and then ditch.” Arthur’s impressive eyebrows moved as he talked emphasizing his words.

“Yeah, yeah, Mathias mentioned something about drinking buddy dignity.” 

At the mention of his name, Mathias moved to clasp his two friends on the shoulders. “And I believe it’s time we get a move on. We have some catching up to do, and Gilbert owes us an explanation.”

Together the three of them walked to a dinghy bar further away from campus. They cut through alleys and made turn after turn through supposed shortcuts before they stopped at a place that looked abandoned from the outside. Mathias dramatically opened the door and waved for his friends to go in ahead of him. Arthur thanked him, and, upon entering the dark, open space, beelined to the bar to buy the first round.

Gilbert walked to a booth in the back corner and plopped down glad that Arthur still owed the group a couple of rounds after a drunken incident a few weeks ago. The dude could be so stuffy but put a few drinks in him, and he’s the liveliest guy in the room.

Mathias slid in the booth across from Gilbert grinning. “I can’t believe you actually got caught up being productive.”

“For the record, I’m actually good at what I do.”

Arthur slammed three pints on the table. “If what you are good at is miscommunication.”

Gilbert grabbed a glass. “Am I supposed to believe you are amazing at communication because you study  _ literature _ ?”

Arthur sat down next to Mathias and sipped his drink. “Yes,” he deadpanned.

Gilbert smirked. “If you were such a great communicator, then, Francis would have gotten the hint or you would have let him in your pants by now.”

Arthur’s face reddened and he sputtered. Booming laughter coming from Mathias saved him from having to come up with a coherent response. The three of them fell into easy conversation talking about what they had been up to so far that week, as they finished off another round.

“I think something is up with one of my friends,” Mathias said while spinning his empty glass around.

“We already know something is wrong with Gilbert. My guess is being dropped on his head as a kid,” Arthur stated. Gilbert protested loudly.

Mathias snorted at the joke and continued, “Not him. An old friend I have a class with. I haven’t seen him in a while, but we have a class this semester, and, I don’t know, he just seems off.”

“You get a chance to ask him about it?” Arthur asked.

“Not really. I just wanted to mention it. I’m sure it’s nothing.” They all nodded in acknowledgment of the feeling. Mathias peered at Gilbert curiously.

“Actually, what is up with you, Gil? You seem off; kind of quiet”

“Just thinking about stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Arthur questioned before taking a swig to finish his drink.

“I met someone today.”

“Oh, Gilbert’s got a hot date,” Mathias teased.

“I was turned down.”

Arthur admonished, “And you’re letting it get to you? No offense, but I’ve seen you get turned down a lot. Hell, I’ve seen it happen here multiple times.”

“This guy is different,” Gilbert said.

Both friends leaned forward curiously.

“How so?” Arthur asked first.

Gilbert looked at them and rubbed his forehead. He knew he was being ridiculous, but it still felt like something. With a sigh, he leaned back and explained what happened.

Arthur furrowed his brow as Gilbert finished his story. “So you have feelings for a stranger whose name you don’t know and who insulted you in the only conversation you’ve ever had.”

Gilbert ran a hand down his face. “Sounds dumb when you say it like that.”

Mathias corrected, “It’s romantic.”

Arthur nodded, “Yeah, seems unlike you.”

Mathias pushed Arthur’s shoulder, “You're not a creative. You wouldn’t get it.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I think I understand romance, but you have to admit that this is a bit much.”

Gilbert downed the last of his drink. “I know it’s a lot, but it just happened, so I need a moment.”

“The one that got away,” Mathias swooned mockingly.

“Pretty much. He’s the best picture I ever took though.”

“Shame he wouldn’t model even for pay,” Arthur said.

“Yeah.” 

Gilbert’s thoughts drifted to the picture. It was good but didn’t fully capture his mystery guy. Campus was a bit too big to start a search, and he wasn’t that creepy. That doesn’t mean he can’t hope to run into him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins!
> 
> I studied art history and have a lot of opinions about misogynistic and crazy artists lol
> 
> Feel free to contact me on tumblr at [allavengedromance](https://allavengedromance.tumblr.com/) or twitter [@bethfrombackrow](https://twitter.com/bethfrombackrow)  
> I plan on updating at least every two weeks, maybe sooner. I have the first couple of chapters finished.


	3. The Studio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gilbert learns a name

Three days passed, and Gilbert did not see him. The most unnerving thing about the whole situation was that he didn’t have a name for when he talked to his friends about it. The drawings didn’t even stay on the wall long enough for Gilbert to ask one of his friends their opinion on it. Gilbert trudged across campus towards the library thinking about it. The stranger was on his mind since he just finished printing some photos and finally decided to print the one from the bridge. He kept going back and forth on edits and decided if he didn’t print it, he’d mess with it forever.

He stopped to shift his hold on his portfolio. The worst thing about visual studies was trying to haul all your shit around campus. With a grunt, he kept walking into the library, saying a silent thanks to the powers that be for installing automatic doors. 

His loud shuffling about echoed around the mostly empty library. The open space in the entryway opened to the other floors allowing his sounds to expand and spread. Other than him, the only other sounds were the whispers of students at the computers. They glared at his disruption as he passed and turned towards the group study rooms around the corner. He counted off the rooms as he passed: 109, 110, 111. 

“112,” he muttered to himself with a grin. Kicking open the door, he announced himself, “Sup, bitches. I have arrived.”

Antonio laughed, and Francis grinned as he got up to close the door behind Gilbert. “You’re such a dick. Scaring people is juvenile.”

“You’re juvenile.” 

Antonio ohed at Gilbert’s insult. Gilbert high-fived him for the support. He fell into a chair at the round table and began to take out his laptop. “So what did I miss?”

“I was helping Francis study,” Antonio said.

Francis added, “I ran into Arthur today.”

“How’d that go?”

“He has a plan,” Antonio enthused. Gilbert raised a curious eyebrow at Francis.

“It appears that I suddenly need help in one of my elective classes.”

“You are not,” Gilbert said, already knowing where Francis was going.

“And, oh, the best person to help with writing and understanding novels happens to be a friend named Arthur.”

“No way that will work,” Gilbert denied but grinned.

Francis stated, “Tutoring is romantic.”

Gilbert turned dramatically towards Antonio. “Are you in love with me? Want to bone me?”

Antonio laughed. “No.”

“One:” Gilbert threw one finger up, “I’m offended. Everyone wants to bone me. Two:” Gilbert swung his arm to hold up two fingers, “That’s strange considering we study in this room together all the time.”

Francis crossed his arms. “Now, you’re just being mean.”

“Like I said: no way it works.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that he agreed.”

Gilbert guffawed, “Seriously? Are we thinking about the same Arthur?”

“He said stuff about not forcing anyone to have to read whatever shit I was turning in, but that’s how he says yes. I may have also dropped your name a lot, so consider this me saying I owe you one.”

Gilbert leaned back, “I’m impressed.”

“You forget I am the resident romance expert.”

“Well, it’s definitely not me,” Gilbert conceded.

“Did the mystery guy turn you down again?” Antonio asked.

“I ran into Roderich  _ and _ Elizaveta.”

“Ouch,” Francis winced sympathetically.

“Apparently, there’s a music appreciation class in the fine arts building.”

“How awkward was it on a scale of one to ten?” Antonio questioned.

“Honestly, it’s not that it was awkward at all. I’m just annoyed. I had a huge plan to ask her out, and then, one day we’re hanging out and she just drops the fact that she is dating a guy that broke up with me? Not cool.” Gilbert put his head on his arms. “Makes me feel like an idiot.”

“Can I be honest?” Francis hesitated.

“When aren’t you?”

Francis tilted his head and shrugged one shoulder in acknowledgment before stating, “I never thought you guys were good together, and Elizaveta would have eaten you alive. Like, I don’t see how you were compatible with either of them.”

Gilbert sat up. “Honestly, I don’t think I was, but it’s the principle of the thing. Plus, I don’t like being reminded of my time dating Specs when I’m in my sacred space.”

“Sacred space?” Antonio chuckled.

“The visual studies building is my sacred space, and I want it to stay that way.”

“At least you aren’t sad about being single,” Francis offered.

“Got that going for me.” Gilbert reached for his portfolio. “When you’re done working on whatever you were working on before I got here do you mind looking through my prints? I need a critique before I decide to submit anything.”

“Sure. Just let us finish going through another round of flashcards,” Francis agreed, gesturing to Antonio who held up the stack of cards. Gilbert gave a thumbs up and opened his email. 

Eventually, Gilbert was deep into researching a paper, and Francis and Antonio were done with the cards. Antonio claimed he had a coffee not-date with Lovino and said his goodbyes. With just the two of them left, Francis grabbed Gilbert’s portfolio. The sound of the zipper and shuffling of prints filled the silent room but didn’t grab Gilbert’s attention from his computer. Francis hummed as he flipped through the images, pausing every few prints to linger on one he thought was particularly good or bad. He was six prints in when he stopped.

“Gilbert, is this that picture you were talking about the other week? Mystery guy?”

Pushing his laptop aside Gilbert scooted closer to look. “Oh, yeah. It’s amazing, right?”

“Totally, but I know him.”

“I knew you’d like it. Wait,” Gilbert stared at his friend, “Did you just say you knew him?”

“Yep. That’s Matthew.” Francis tapped the picture twice.

Gilbert leaned back. “Holy shit. We are such idiots.”

“You’re telling me. I never thought to ask to see this even when you said he was at least in studio. I study  _ painting _ .”

Gilbert leaned close and peered at the picture. “So his name is Matthew, and you know him.” Gilbert shook his head in disbelief.

“In the biblical sense,” Francis added.

Gilbert paused. “Excuse me?”

Francis shrugged. “It was a thing freshman year.”

Gilbert leaned back in his chair and stared at Francis who added, “You have great taste by the way.”

“Because he is nice and has a great personality or because it was good?” Gilbert all but groaned.

“I was leaning towards the latter, but both. I can see why you’d get along,” Francis elaborated.

Gilbert clarified, “Technically, we’ve talked twice, and he just teases me.”

“We’re good friends. I know him. Trust me. That’s a good sign.”

“How were we such idiots about this?”

“Beats me,” Francis held his hands up in mock surrender, “But I see him in studio sometimes. I can try to nudge him towards you when I run into him.”

“That’s not creepy at all.” Gilbert could hear Matthew calling him Creepy Photo Guy in his head.

Francis grinned. “It’s not creepy to bring a friend to sit in studio with me where other students happen to be. Plus, I owe you a wingman moment.”

“Okay, yeah, but he might be seeing someone.” Gilbert paused thinking about how he still wanted to get to know Matthew. “What are the odds you can get him to agree to model for me?”

“No idea. He used to be much more outgoing than he is now. I honestly don’t know much of what he has been up with him recently. We chat, but he doesn’t really give away anything personal. Most of the time it’s like he has somewhere to go.”

“Great,” Gilbert grunted.

“Can’t hurt to spend time together. You like talking to him. I get the feeling he likes talking to you. If you become friends, maybe he’ll help you out, too. He’s an amazing artist.”

“Very true. Okay, let’s do this shit. I’ll start hanging out in studio more with you.”

Francis grinned.

Gilbert narrowed his eyes. “Is this an elaborate scheme to get me to hang out in studio with you instead of you sitting in lab with me?”

Francis’s grin widened. “Who knows when we will run into Matthew together? I guess you’ll just have to sit with me when I would normally be all alone in hopes he’ll do studio time at the same time.”

Gilbert shook his head. “You fiend.”

“I can’t be evil if I am technically helping. Besides, I know you love fucking with the projector and the speakers.”

“Well, I’ll come sit with you tomorrow. I can work on edits for these.” Gilbert tapped on the stack of prints in front of Francis. He clarified, “This is me telling you to go through them with me.”

“Fine. Fine. You and Antonio are so boring mid-semester. All you do is work. Not enough gossip.”

Gilbert smirked and tapped the prints again. As exciting as learning about his mystery guy was, there was work to be done.

* * *

The studio wasn’t anything particularly interesting. The room was just an open space. Easels were stacked against the side wall. One wall had a chalkboard and screen for a projector. The others were cabinets and racks for storage and cleanup. Gilbert made himself comfy at the professor’s desk. Upon entering, he announced to the only person in the room, Francis, that he would be DJ for the evening and proceeded to play his music over the speakers — too lazy to put Netflix on the projector.

For all that he complained, studio was nice. Students rarely crowded the space unless a major deadline was approaching, so it was usually just him and Francis with the occasional student or two who decided to come in. More often than not, someone would open the door, see it was occupied, and move to the other studio next door in hopes of being able to work privately — probably nothing to do with their volume.

Gilbert did like the privacy of the studio rooms. The lab could get overcrowded and loud easily with students that needed to use the computer programs. The main reason he had been avoiding studio was because last time he decided to keep Francis company late at night, he ended up dancing around the room barefoot and stepped on a tac. He swore he wouldn’t come back. Antonio bet he would. Pride was at stake.

He owes Antonio a beer now.

If knowing Matthew was secretly Francis’s plan to get Gilbert to keep him company while he painted, it worked. He would bring his laptop and hard drives over and work on his projects while chatting with Francis — the only artist he knew that needed to be social while he worked. Doing the extra work of packing everything he needed and making sure his files were together was unawesome, but Francis was right about how he loved to fuck with the speakers and projector.

What didn’t happen was running into Matthew. It was starting to get a little late to start a big project with him as a model, but Gilbert still thought it’d be cool to actually talk. Gilbert secretly liked people capable of bringing him down a peg. It keeps things interesting.

In Matthew’s partly-expected absence, Francis took the time to tease Gilbert mercilessly. There was a reason Gilbert groaned when Francis mentioned just how well they knew each other. Gilbert always tried his hardest not to have a thing with anyone Francis had a thing with. Typically, no one is worth giving Francis this kind of verbal ammunition. 

“Dude, I don’t want to hear about his dick,” Gilbert complained to Francis who was sitting on a stool leaning into the easel holding up his large canvas. Francis leaned back to look at Gilbert.

“But aren’t you curious?”

Gilbert pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, but I’d rather not hear about it from you.”

“Your loss.”

“Sure. Sure,” Gilbert muttered, “Or maybe I actually want to get to know him.”

“God, you’re adorable.”

Gilbert huffed and turned the music up a few notches and went back to working on his paper. They had goofed off too much earlier, and, now that it was dark out, they really needed to actually focus.

The playlist cycled through more than once, and Gilbert had written four pages when the door creaked open. Gilbert was in the middle of reading a source and didn’t notice the new person over the music. Francis, on the other hand, leaned around his canvas with a grin to look at the intruder.

“Why hello,” Francis greeted.

Matthew stood frozen in the doorway. “I can go to the other room to work. It looked empty,” he offered.

“Nonsense! You know I don’t mind sharing the space. Besides, I have a long night ahead of me, and can use all the company I can get.”

Matthew nodded and walked in. He set his stuff on the ground near Francis and noticed the second person in the room as he stood up. Gilbert was sitting in the professor’s chair with one leg on it so he could balance his arm on his knee. He was leaning into his laptop as if the words he was reading were sucking him in.

“Oh my god,” a grin grew on Matthew’s face, “Creepy Photo Guy, you’re still stalking me.”

At the sound of the voice, Gilbert looked up. A bang echoed around the room as he hit his leg against the desk in an effort to sit like a normal person. 

“I thought you were going to stop the nickname once you learned my name?” Gilbert attempted to be suave and hide how much hitting his leg against the metal desk actually hurt. By the way Matthew laughed as he began setting up, he wasn’t very successful.

Before Matthew could respond, Francis butted in. “You guys are friends?”

God bless Francis’s ability to act. Even Gilbert almost believed he was sincere. 

Matthew put down his easel near Francis and paused, tilting his head. “Kind of? You know Gilbert?” He turned the question around to get out of trying to describe the weirdness that was his relationship with Gilbert.

Francis smiled and shot Gilbert a wink. “Why of course! He, me, and Antonio are a trio. I’m sure I’ve told you stories,” Francis stated flippantly. Gilbert shifted not sure if he liked the mention of these stories. 

Matthew shot Gilbert an amused look. “I always knew you were bad news, Gil.” Now having finished setting up, he began sketching.

Gilbert shot a glare at Francis — so much for being a good wingman. “I don’t know what you’ve been told, but I am the most awesome news.”

Francis raised an eyebrow at Gilbert’s attempt. Matthew chuckled but didn’t stop sketching, the sounds of his pencil drawing long strokes filling the room.

“Nothing wrong with being a bad boy,” Matthew teased.

“Oh, yeah, Matthew here loves bad boys,” Francis added.

Matthew froze; the sound of his pencil stopped. For a brief moment, everyone was quiet. Matthew let out a breath and spoke quickly, “Whatever, Francis.”

Sensing tension Francis quickly changed the subject. “I should have known you were friends when I saw that one picture Gilbert took. You’re a skilled model.”

Matthew leaned back to look at Gilbert, his face flushed. “You kept the picture?”

“I didn’t go through the effort of angering a stranger to get the perfect shot just to delete it.”

“I want to be annoyed, but as an artist, I guess I also have to appreciate the hustle.”

“I am taking that as a compliment.”

Matthew shot him an amused look and went back to sketching. 

Francis caught Gilbert’s eye and waved his hand to get him to keep talking. Gilbert shifted. “I can show it to you if you want.”

Matthew didn’t look up. “I’m not super into looking at pictures of myself if I can help it.”

Gilbert watched Matthew and tilted his head. “Your loss.”

Matthew hesitated briefly but continued to draw. A soft smile formed on Gilbert’s face as he saw a blush creep up Matthew’s face. The room evolved into a calming cadence of noise — the music playing through the speakers, the typing of Gilbert’s keyboard, the scratching and shifting of media across paper and canvas.

The semi-silence did not last long as Francis found himself distracted and began talking about his day and books he had recently read. Gilbert and Matthew added their two cents to Francis’s stories creating a semi-distracted conversation that allowed time to pass smoothly as they worked. 

“What is this?” Matthew interrupted Francis pointing to the roof.

“What?” 

“The music, it sounds familiar.”

“Oh, it’s a cover. There’s this album where a ton of bands covered random songs, so this was once a fast pop song.”

“I like it.”

Gilbert smirked. “Give me your number, and I can send it to you.”

Matthew huffed, “I don’t give out my number.”

Francis exaggerated, “You’re like an old soul! Abandoning technology to appreciate the world.”

“Okay, you stop that nonsense,” Matthew pointed his pencil at Francis, then, he pointed to Gilbert, “and what about email?”

Gilbert blinked and shrugged. “Yeah, anything would work.”

“Cool.” Matthew got up and walked to the desk leaning towards Gilbert’s laptop, flush against him. Gilbert held his breath until Matthew spoke. “Dude, pull up your email so I can type it in.”

“Oh, yeah.” Gilbert opened his email and watched as Matthew typed. “maplelover1867?”

Matthew sighed, “It’s a secondary email.”

“Man, you think I’m so lame that you give me your spam email?”

Francis called out. “You are lame.”

Matthew pushed Gilbert’s shoulder. “Shut up. It isn’t a spam email. I just use it for private stuff.”

Francis added, “Like your porn accounts?”

“Oh my god. You two are insufferable,” Matthew exclaimed standing straight.

Gilbert felt the loss of his closeness but continued the conversation admitting, “Surprisingly, we get that a lot. You should see us at the bars.”

“Oh, God.”

“You should come out sometime.”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a hard maybe.” Matthew turned and started packing his things.

“Leaving already?” Francis asked, pausing his painting.

“It’s getting late, and I can always work on this later.”

“Need someone to walk with you,” Gilbert offered.

Matthew raised an eyebrow.

“It’s really late. Maybe you need protection,” Gilbert defended.

Francis chuckled. Matthew smirked. “Tell him.”

“Matthew was an athlete and can totally beat people up.”

Gilbert crossed his arms. “Maybe I meant protection from boredom.”

Matthew smiled. “I’ll be fine. Bye guys.” At the door, Matthew paused again. “Bye, Gilbert.”

Gilbert continued looking at the door after it clicked closed. At the exact same moment, Francis cracked up laughing. Gilbert glared at him.

Francis spoke through his waning laughs, “You are so lame! I’ve never seen you this hopeless.”

Gilbert ran his hands over his face. “Shut up.”

Francis walked over to sit on the desk. “This is amazing. How have I ever thought of you as suave and flirty?”

“Matthew is something.”

“I’m texting Antonio.”

“Really, dude?”

“A guy you’ve had a handful of conversations with is turning you into a pile of nervous mush. This is the most interesting thing that has happened to our group of friends since I got Arthur to tutor me.”

“Please stop.”

“Most entertaining studio time ever. The entire room practically stank of you guys’ romantic tension.”

“He has a boyfriend, and we are just going to be friends and possibly collaborate on cool projects.”

“The project thing would be cool, and we don’t know about the boyfriend thing. Either way, I’m excited about the upcoming entertainment.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Frenchie. This was as amusing as it gets and won’t happen again at least for a long time.” Francis looked up from his phone and grinned.

More often than he’d like to admit, Gilbert was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to contact me on tumblr at [allavengedromance](https://allavengedromance.tumblr.com/) or twitter [@bethfrombackrow](https://twitter.com/bethfrombackrow)  
> I share multifandom stuff or personal things, but am trying to slowly post more about in-progress fic stuff.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos on the first two chapters!! It's always nice to know people are reading


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